What’s really going on here? Probably not what you think.
The tour of the Carver house lasted thirty minutes. Mitchell Boyd thought it easily took the record as being the most monotonous half hour of his life. He found the inside of the building just as insidious as the exterior. It felt like a mausoleum, dark and dank, and the musty air didn’t help to dispel his feelings.
Andrea, on the other hand, had proudly ushered Boyd from room to room, further explaining the history of both the building and the family. She desperately wanted to take Mitchell to the lake, but they both really needed to shower and eat. It had been a long drive, and despite it being spring, the weather had been unseasonably warm the last two weeks.
‘As I showed you before, your room has an en suite. I’ll see you downstairs for dinner in half an hour.’ She escorted him back to his room. Boyd smiled and nodded, and waited for Andrea to return to her room before entering his own and closing the door.
He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. There was little doubt that she was the perfect woman for him. He would do it tonight, without any second thoughts.
Boyd leaned over to the overnight bag on his bed and yanked back the zipper. He rummaged deep inside the bag and pulled out a small, Tiffany blue, ring box. He opened the box to reveal a princess cut, two-carat diamond and platinum ring. It was perfect, flawless, divine. Just the sort of ring that Andrea would flaunt to all her friends. Boyd stared at it for a moment longer, before closing the box and returning it to his bag.
He found a clean change of clothes and headed to the en suite to shower and get ready for dinner. If he played his cards right, he could surprise Andrea before dessert, and enjoy the rest of the evening, stress free.
In her room, Andrea took her time showering. Realistically, she had no intention of the two of them ever making it to dinner. No, she had plans. Big, grand plans for her and Mitchell Boyd. She smiled as she considered what was going to happen.
From her purse she pulled a small glass phial, which contained a clear liquid. Andrea shook the phial and watched as the liquid settled back in its place. Her smiled widened.
‘A drop of this, and Mitchell Boyd, you’re all mine.’ She put the small container carefully in her front right-hand pocket. Her jeans were tight enough that Mitchell would enjoy the view, and loose enough that he wouldn’t spot the outline of the phial in her pocket.
Andrea ran her hands through her hair as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She adjusted the form-fitting black t-shirt she had thrown on, and sighed. If Mitchell Boyd didn’t fall for her tonight, then she would consider herself losing her touch and Boyd would be the last. She took a last long look at herself in the mirror, and then left her room for the kitchen.
When Andrea reached the kitchen, she immediately went to the refrigerator and removed a nicely chilled bottle of Moet and Chandon. She didn’t know if Mitchell was likely to drink champagne, but if she made a toast, he’d at least have to take a sip.
She opened the cupboard door above the sink and found her mother’s Bohemian crystal champagne flutes. They were a little dusty, not having been used since March, four months ago. That was the last time Andrea had brought a man to the lake.
‘And how divine he was, young Marcus Adams,’ she smiled to herself as his name fell from her lips.
. . . .To be continued . . .